Begin Again
by moodyreindeer
Summary: Chase and Christine's story may be over, but that doesn't mean their kids' isn't. Third and final installment in the Forbidden Love trilogy. Five-Shot.
1. Chapter 1

**It's finally here, people, it's finally here.**

**The final installment of the Forbidden Love trilogy!**

**It will be longer, word-wise, but also shorter, chapter-wise.**

**Did that make sense? Let's pretend it did.**

**Like usual, all updating goals, and story news will be in the bottom A/N, and thoroughly explained.**

**Sorry if this is horrible - blame my computer for being such a bitch lately.**

* * *

_February 21st 2036_

Cosette Marie Davenport, was many things, but patient was not one of them.

She impatiently paced, waiting for Elizabeth to finally get ready so they could leave. "Ugh, what are you doing, digging your clothes out of Narnia in there?" she snapped, taking another worried glance at her watch.

She and her best friend had at least two hours left to blow the secret wad of money her mother had snuck to her that morning for the perfect Quinceaneara dress before her father arrived home for work, and at least ten minutes of that two hours would be spent trying to find the best hiding spot for the dress that her father wouldn't come across in the three weeks before the actual ceremony.

Not to mention the twenty minute bus ride it would take to actually get to the dress shop downtown.

"I swear to God I will come in there and dress you myself if you don't hurry the fug up!" Cosette screamed to the closed closet door.

"Oh, don't get your panties in a twist," Elizabeth's muffled voice rang from somewhere inside, following by a huge thud and a loud "Shit!"

When she appeared, she was in a striped sweater with long sleeve and dark skinny jeans, looking at her best friend mockingly. "There, good enough for you?"

"I wasn't the one who said you needed to spend half the day getting dressed!" Cosette reminded her as the blond shoved into a pair of brown leather booties.

The two girls soon exited Elizabeth's house, hurrrying down the street the nearby bus stop.

"I still don't see the point in all this," Elizabeth whined as they waited. "You're not even Mexican."

"Hispanic," Cosette pointedly corrected, crossing her arms. They may have been in California, but she could have been wiser and opted to bring a jacket along, but in her mad rush to get ready that morning, the thought of staying warm had completely slipped her mind. "I come from Hispanic heritage, and it was my mother's idea to celebrate it."

"Aren't your parents all, you know, Mr. Krabbs, when it comes to spending money on parties and all that jazz?" Elizabeth pointed out as they bus choked to a stop in front of them. They quickly boarded.

Cosette gave a snort as she reached, pathetically on her tip toes, to grab the handle bar as Elizabeth snickered on her lifted feet slightly off the ground. Sadly, she had inherited her luck with heights from her father and currently held the status as shortest person in the entire freshman class. Yay.

"Really a Spongebob reference? Could you get any more childish?"

As if to prove a point, Elizabeth declared "Doody head!" and stuck her tongue out, going cross-eyed.

At her friend's childish ways, Cosette rolled her eyes.

"I think you're forgetting those five hours you, me, and Mom spent with Dad trying to convince that a Quinceanera was a right of passage for a girl with Hispanic heritage, remember?"

Elizabeth blankly stared at passing buildings as the bus puttered along, taking a moment to process this through her head before turning to Cosette again, snapping her fingers and grinning madly. "Oh, those five hours. Got'cha."

Cosette just stared at her best friend's cheeky face before exclaiming, "Oh my God, it's a marvel you can tie your shoes."

Elizabeth swatted at her arm, letting go of the bar just as the bus screeched to an abrupt halt. Elizabeth let out a surprised shriek, falling to her knees at the force of the stop.

Cosette cackled as she stepped over her and skipped her merry way off the bus and began down the street.

"Hurtful!" She could hear Elizabeth call after her when she finally dusted herself off and scurried off the bus. (What a weird bus it was, all the other passangers staring at them like they've never seen a pair of teenage best friends before.)

* * *

**Not done! Stall please?**

Cosette bit at her lip, although her brother's reply had been nearly immediate.

**You so owe me.**

She sighed in relief, stepping out of her third dress in the fifth store that Saturday afternoon.

Even after an hour and a half of dress after dress, the duo had still managed to come up empty handed, clueless on what a dress for such occasion would even looked like.

Elizabeth was a California-born freak, and lacked any knowledge of foreign cultures that she couldn't learn from a series of episodes of different TV shows, and Cosette hadn't even known of her Hispanic ancestors until three months prior to her nearing Quinceanera.

Suffice to say, they were clueless of the customs.

But Cosette highly doubted that any dress wouldn't be suitable for the event - a Quinceanera was about a girl maturing into a woman, after all. So the answer seemed blatantly obvious: find a dress that would make her short, skinny body and (sadly flat) chest look sexy and mature.

After thanking the exasperated-looking employee that had been helping them hunt down the perfect dress, Elizabeth and Cosette gave in to the fact that they hadn't found their miracle store and exited the small shop by a an antique shop, and hurried across the street just as the walking sign flashed.

"If only you weren't so picky," Elizabeth muttered as they continued their way down the strips of shops. "If you haven't noticed, Setty, you're kinda running out of options. And not to mention time!"

Cosette pursed her lips and shoved her hands into her pocket, giving her friend a glare. She knew they were coming down on the wire, but Johnathan had promised to stall, and knowing her brother, he wouldn't disappoint - her, anyway. Their father, however, she couldn't speak for.

The two veered into one of the last dress shops on the street, a small, old-looking place called Sally's Closet with a very antique edge to it.

"Whoa, I've only ever seen these babies in old flicks," Elizabeth murmured, running her hands over the silk material of a nearby dress.

Cosette could only manage a nod. All the gowns were simply gorgeous, but the best of them all caught her eye in the far corner.

The dress didn't look like much. It was a simply strapless dress made from sleek magenta color color. With gentle hands, she took it from the rack and walked over to the gallery of mirrors near a dressing room.

It fell to just over her purple, doodled Converse, the slight puff of the skirt's hem skimming against the floor. The slash wrapped around the waist, separating the skirt and corset with a band of modest, glimmering crystals.

"Dude, I think you found the one," Elizabeth breathed, coming up behind her.

Cosette grinned at her in the mirror, nodding with the same excitement of a furiously shaken bobble head. "I think I should try it on!"

With that she dashed into the nearest dressing room, the door closet and clicking shut with a bang that resonated as much perkiness as the petite brunette did.

After wiggling out of her skinny jeans and star-printed sweater, Cosette stepped into the dress, pulling at the bunching parts and smoothing out the annoying creases that wrinkled together under the glimmering slash.

"Well? I won't wait forever!"

Cosette let out a deep breath and stepped out, cautiously poking her head out the door.

"Yeah, I know what you're face looks like, but I wanna see the dress!" Elizabeth exclaimed.

Cosette, rolling her eyes, pushed the door away and stepped out, showing off the dress as it hugged her every (nearly nonexistent) curves and brushed floor when she took a couple dainty steps forward.

Elizabeth let out an uncharacteristic squeal and clapped her hands. "Boom! I told you this store would be the one!"

The brunette squinted at her in accusation. "No you didn't."

The blonde flapped a manicured hand indignantly. "Whatever, just so change so we can snag your glass slippers and make it home before midnight!"

"Only you would make two Disney references in the same sentence!" Cosette called as she locked the dressing room door behind her.

"Get on my level, son! Get on my _level_!"

* * *

_Glass slippers_ turned out to mean a pair of silver shoes with a small heel and a pair of glittery flats.

"I still don't get the whole transformation thing," Elizabeth whined as they dragged themselves on the bus once again.

Cosette, juggling two shoe bags and a dress in her arms, huffed and said for what felt like the umpteenth time, "For the love of Christ, Liz, I wear the flats for half a night, then when it's time, I express maturing into a woman by stepping into my first heels and growing into womanhood!"

"Yeah, but does you're height get that?"

Cosette rolled her eyes behind the mountain of bags and boxes in her arms and let out a screech as the bus coughed to a stop, lurching Cosette backward and making her tower of purchased items fall around her like a kid's destroyed block tower.

"How's it feel, Oh Tiny One?" Elizabeth cackled as she danced her petite body over her friend's sprawled limbs and items, prancing off the bus and down the street.

Cosette sat up and grumbled, combing her thin fingers through her hair as she tried to quickly gather her things back into her arms.

Just as she was reaching for the navy blue box that held her sparkly new flats, a pair of slim, muscled hands beat her to the task and thrust them out toward her.

"Here," a musical voice smoothly exclaimed to her.

Cosette looked up into a pair of dark brown eyes and smiled at the boy gratefully. "Thanks," she murmured, stacking her shoes then slinging the dress bag over the top.

"Quite a tower you have there," he observed as they both stood.

Cosette gave him a half smile and began maneuvering through a sea of standing bodies and knobby knees.

Once she was standing on the sidewalk and watching the bus putter away, it's tail end spitting out dark clouds of smoke, she realized she wasn't standing it and watching it disappear alone.

"Oh, I didn't realize you came off here," Cosette said in surprise as she caught sight of the same boy beginning to walk away.

He turned, and Cosette could finally make out the headphone resting comfortably on his neck, and his curves, nicely exposed in his V-neck and hoodie. She had to admit, he wasn't bad looking.

The boy nodded, flashing her a charming smile. "Yeah, my dad and I live in the apartment complex just three streets over." He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder.

Cosette shifted her items, shaking her head to will the wind to blow her hair from her face.

"Whoa, those things are huge," Cosette pointed out, recalling the few times her parents drove by the tall apartment buildings with glass faces. They were dark and smooth, reflecting the clouds on Mission Creek's warm and sunny days, or looking like it was sobbing with the rain during horrible storms. She always found them to be gorgeous.

Suddenly she felt self-conscious of her typical three-story cul-de-sac house with it's white shutters and creamy paint job as she told him about the direction she was headed and jerked her head in said directions.

"Well, charmed to meet you," the boy said once the words were done falling awkwardly from her mouth and they were left to stand awkwardly on the sidewalk.

"You as well!" Cosette called, lowering her arms in the slightest to watch his turn around and walk in the opposite direction.

By the time Cosette finally arrived home and jimmied her key into the lock, her father had exploded and had his anger oozing off the walls.

She quickly hurried her items up the stairs, pushing them under her bed in the square storage space, then silently slipped back down the stairs.

The back of Jonathan's head faced her, as well did her dad's red, furious face as his eyebrows scrunched together, and he spewed spit, pacing back and forth in front of the couch his son was seated on.

Cosette widened her eyes, catching sight of the broken window, clicking the pieces together. When she had meant stall, she hadn't meant for her brother to break their father's house laws, which included prohibiting destruction, mess, and any shape or form of sports in the house at all times.

"Just - what would drive you to do such a thing, Johnathon Christopher Davenport?" Their dad fumed. Cosette could practically make out the smoke pouring from his ears even from her spot on the stairs.

She caught her twin's shoulders shrugging. "I dunno, an extra shot of Mountain Dew in my coffee this morning?" he joked feebly, squirming under his dad's firm gaze.

(The whole Mountain Dew and coffee thing? Yeah, Johnathan found it necessary to mix his caffeinated drinks for that extra sunshine boost in the morning.)

Just as Cosette watched her father's mouth widened, prepared to let his screams and spit fly, their mother walked in.

The first thing she saw was her daughter, hugging her knees on the stairs while watching the Father & Son Fight show, then her eyes caught the glass shards lying on the ground. The sight of such a mess, and the thought of another broken window, nearly made her drop her groceries.

Luckily, she regained enough willpower to set her bags on the table in the foyer, then shoot her daughter a wild-eyed look of panic.

Cosette silently stood, jabbing her thumb up the stairs before quickly scurrying up to her room, hearing her mother's light footsteps treading after her own.

Once the two women were both safely locked up in the thick walls of Cosette's room, the young brunette wiggled underneath her bed to pull out all the findings Elizabeth and her had scavenged for that afternoon.

"Why is another window broken? I thought three was our limit for this year?" Her mother interrogated.

Cosette turned to face her with a sheepish smile already slipping into place as she shrugged her shoulders. "Sorry, but I need a distraction, and you know how rebellious John has to be with his stunts."

She scooted out of the way, showing off her dress and shoes to her mother.

"Oh, Setty," the woman whispered, her hands going up to her mouth in complete awe. "I love it."

She gently ran her hand down the silkiness of the dress skirt while her eyes hungrily skimmed the sparkling shoes. She smiled, then lifting the dress to drape it over her daughter's body as they moved to stand in Cosette's full-length mirror.

"You know," her mother mused, smoothing down her daughter's hair, "purple is the color of royalty."

Cosette smiled, taking in there appearance.

Once upon a time, their parents used to to tell them stories about their high school years, ones that were the opposite of the boring parent stories you hear people talk about on sitcoms and movies.

But the stories Cosette liked most was the stories that her father told of her mother, and spoke fondly on how much they looked alike.

And if Cosette stood completely still, and stilled her features, she could make out the same gentle slope of the same nose, the same light and dark rings of brown around their pupils, the dark hair that fell in uncontrollably tresses.

She liked the stories even more now, because her little seven-year-old self had pictured Christine Grant as the petite brunette with wide, glassy eyes and loud smile that she was now. And that's the closest a mother and daughter could get.

"Setty," her mother whispered now, with a far away look in her eyes, "No one will be able to take their eyes off of you."

* * *

Eric Hayes loved the idea of flying.

It was an easy thing to imagine, staring out at the big city with it's blinking lights and heavy noise of a moving world from his apartment wall of glass. Having grown up with this view all his life, the idea never left him, but was only released when he drew enough energy to create his bird eye view on a canvas, in a way that may finally be able to make people understand how better the view was from up above, where everything seemed so tiny and unimportant.

But, instead of drawing his blinking lights and spinning world, he was sketching big brown eyes and hair that the wind ran through, dancing the tango in midair.

The reason why was beyond him, but if she was pretty enough to draw, there was a reason there. Eric just had to find it.

"Hey, bud, you home?"

Eric looked up from his worn sketch pad sitting precariously on his knees, seeing his father enter the room. As always, he looked stuck in his mid-twenties, as if the spotlights from the stages he once performed on were permanently highlighting his every feature, eager to draw in a crowd.

"Some mail came from you." Eric squinted at the brown-eyed sketch in thought. "The Davenports, I believe?"

His father's face flashed with recognition like it usually did when that name was involved. Although Eric had never personally met this pair, Chase and Christine Davenport's presence was like a stamp on the family way. Eric supposed there was more to just them wanting to keep contact after their high school years, but his dad had never been the type to spill his thoughts, unlike his son, who would draw his mind a million times over if he could.

"Oh, anything specific?"

Eric shrugged his shoulder. "Looked like a party invitation. A birthday coming up?"

The pondering thought was frozen on his father's face when he went to the dining table and picked up the creamy white envelope with swirling gold script. "Oh, would you look at that," he mused when he came back into the room.

Eric perked up, setting his colored pencils down.

"How would you feel about attending a party next weekend?" His father shook the envelope that dangled from his finger tips with a smile. "Their daughter has invited us to her Quinceanera and it simply says the party wouldn't be complete without us."

That hardly sounded like the general friendly note left on an invite. "Their daughter a good friend of yours?"

The older man smiled, shaking his head. "Nah, but I have a feeling her parents are quite the story tellers."

He tossed the envelope to his son, who ripped it open and turned the card over in his fingers, taking in the picture of the girl in his sketch with the eyes the color of coffee beans, and the hair that tangoed with the wind.

Underneath, in curly gold script, it announced Cosette Davenport would be having her Quinceneara at noon, on Saturday the twenty-eighth, in the ballroom of the Sundance Hotel.

Eric couldn't wait to attend.

* * *

**And there ends the first chapter of BA!  
**

**I know, the cover doesn't give my current pen name, but you know it's me, so I didn't both changing it.**

**The updates will be slow, but I hope to make them weekly.**

**So, yeah. Review please?**


	2. Chapter 2

**Happy 2014 babes!**

**Have a good Christmas? New Year?**

**I did, because get what?**

**I GOT A BRAND-SPANKINg-NEW LAPTOP, BROTHA!**

***Preceeds to dance around the room while you read forward***

**Story news in bottom A/N.**

* * *

_February 23nd, 2026_

"Absolutely not! I refuse to let this proceed any further!"

"Chase, we already have the dress and shoes, why not give this protective father bit a rest already?"

Cosette sat at the island, holding a bowl of Frosted Flakes as her parents continued to argue the fate of her Quinceanera, even though all thirty-four invitations had been sent out and the ballroom at the Sundance Hotel secured and paid for. She raised her spoon and chewed her cereal thoughtfully, wondering how her father was going to survive standing up to the wrath of Christine Davenport because no one came back from that battle without some wounds.

That wasn't to say that her parents weren't happily married or that they weren't in love, because they were and always would be, but they were so different from each other that butting heads over pretty much every thing that had two ways of being done was unavoidable.

"Why spend should a ginormous chunk of money on a party when she could using it save up for college?" he tried again, but was failing miserably.

"Chase, Cosette holds straight A's in every class and has perfect attendance in school and all of her six extracurricular activities," her mother pointed out dismissively. "I would be highly surprised if more than a few scholarships weren't in her future."

Cosette saw her father's shoulders slump downward in defeat. "Does it really have to be a party?" he asked in a moan. "Can't we get her something like a puppy?"

"I'm afraid not, Sad Clown," her mother disagreed, "the venue's already booked for next week, anyway."

Cosette tried to hold back a laugh as her mother victoriously sauntered back to the sink, where she resumed washing dishes as her husband gaped her.

"It's booked for when?"

* * *

_February 30th, 2026_

There were a couple perks to being the children of a world-famous scientist and a nationally known CEO of the second-biggest economic company in all of California.

One of them being that from all the galas and banquets they were forced to attend, Cosette and Johnathan formed an alliance of sorts when it came to formal wear.

"You know, one these days not being able to knot your own tie will become pretty pathetic," Cosette noted drily as she stood on tip toes, finishing off her brother's tie and smoothing it down with her fingers carefully and straightening out his jacket.

He smiled wryly, making a turning gesture with his finger. Cosette sighed and turned, lifting her hair up so that he could zip up her dress.

"And one day you're dinosaur arms will bring the same feeling upon you," he teased, letting the zipper drop from his hold.

Cosette sighed again, letting her hair drop.

She felt sparkly and squeezed, her nerves running haywire. Was this how a princess felt during a coronation or when she address a crowd populated by her entire kingdom?

When she was little, Elizabeth and her dreamed day and night about becoming princesses and ruling their own kingdoms, with matching castles and twin princes that showered them with gifts like it was their birthday every day of the year.

Cosette didn't think she'd want to be such royalty if she knew what kind of feelings would come along with it.

But that didn't mean she couldn't enjoy the look.

Her mother had a blast calling upon Cosette's many aunts for help with prepping her for her big day, with Elizabeth tagging along and giving her sarcastic, yet somehow both comical and offensive comments in the background.

Cosette felt flustered, feeling hands and fingers pull and twist her hair into place with glimmering clips - both scored from Aunt Ashley and Aunt Sammie's owned beauty company that varied in salons and spas - and Aunt Rachel making certain adjustments to her dress so it will frame and hug her body in just the right way.

With three aunts ambushing her, Cosette could hardly make out her fourth of the five, Aunt Janelle, murmuring with her mother fondly as she enjoyed the show.

Elizabeth sat on the couch, grinning up at where her best friend had been commanded to stand on the coffee table.

"Ow! What up with the pin in my butt?" Cosette demanded, looking down.

Aunt Rachel looked up at her, face set apologetically. "Sorry, hun."

Elizabeth let out a snort of laughter.

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" Cosette asked in monotone.

Elizabeth nodded her head, wiping away imaginary tears of joy from her eyes. "Oh, you have no idea."

"Hey, mom?" Cosette asked after another aunt head count. "Where's Aunt Bree?"

"Trying to bring your father out of his sour mood," Christine said with a hint of exasperation. "I swear that man will hold a grudge to anything."

"Amen to that," Rachel cackled as she did another unnecessary stab to Cosette's thigh.

A handful of hours and annoying pricks to the butt later, Cosette's dress was officially one that was suited for a princess.

Now, she took in the look, rubbing her thigh as the memory of the million little stabs came back as well.

"Ugh, do you think Mom would kill me if I hurled all over my dress?" Cosette asked her brother with a grimace.

Jonathan patted her should sympathetically. "I would be more concerned about what Rachel would do to you, sister dear."

* * *

Eric hated tuxes with a burning passion.

They felt itchy and tight like a sweater that hugged you too tight. The tie that his dad had forced him to wear wasn't helping matters either, making his neck feel like it it had its own permanent sauna that was open twenty-four seven.

He shifted in the passenger seat of his dad's Malibu for the umpteenth time since he'd climb into the car.

In an attempt to distract himself from all the spots that itched like the worst case of chicken pox, Eric turned to his dad and forced on a curious grin. "So, Dad, who's this Cosette chick again?"

Hunter scratched his chin, smoothly turning the corner.

"Oh, she's one of those sweet and smart types, son," Hunter began easily, drumming a beat on the steering wheel with his fingers as he spoke. "Looks like her mother, asks like her father. I haven't seen her since she was, what, five years old? God, that kid had the biggest chipmunk cheeks."

"Dad, you think every kid has chipmunk cheeks," Eric pointed out with an eye roll. For his dad, looking at kids was liking driving by houses like up in a cul-de-sac - the same thing one after another.

"Do I? Huh."

The Sundance Hotel parking lot was jam-packed by the time they pulled in, which Eric found surprising considering they were half an hour early.

This girl must have quite the popular one if she managed to pull in such a big crowd as the one the parking lot showed.

Eric gave a frustrated yank on his tie as his dad pulled into a spot near the side of building, shaded by swaying cherry blossom trees that blew its lightly shaded petals on everything within three feet of it.

"Does the tie really have to worn?" Eric grumbled as they climbed out.

Hunter sighed, running a hand through his naturally messy mop of hair. "Yes, son, this is a formal event."

"Yeah, but it's not like anyone's gonna know who's violating what dress code as soon as I slip this thing on," Eric insisted, pulling his mandatory mask from his breast pocket. It wasn't much - a simple silver masked lined with black velvet around its edge and the eyes.

Hunter pulled out his similar golden one, lined with white velvet and slipped it over his eyes as if this was on of thousands of masquerades he'd attended in his time. With his celebrity past and famous lifestyle, Eric had no doubt that it was, except more of the low-key masked occasions.

"It's just for tonight," Hunter insisted, guiding his son to the elegant gold entrance of the hotel. "Once you survive these measly hours, I promise you'll never have to even look at another tie again, deal?"

Eric grumbled a irritated agreement, knowing that this so-called deal would fall through at the next chance of attending some big, extravagant event his father got invited to, which was every couple of months even after his famous life had died down a couple years ago.

The gala veered to the left, expanding off the white and gold themed lobby with a huge chandelier that seemed to be as impossible to reach as touching the sky. The floor shined and made Eric's dress shoes squeak against its polished surface.

While he had grown used to being at parties with large numbers of strangers over the years, the mask made Eric extra jumpy. He looked to his side, hoping to see that his father hadn't drifted off yet, only to be dismayed once he saw the empty air beside him.

He gave an exasperated sigh, shoulders hunching.

Why was he not surprised?

* * *

Although she did have a hand in some details - mostly things like "oh yeah, that's the perfect color scheme," and "no, shouldn't those centerpieces be rose instead of coral?" - Cosette was blown away by the crowd her measly Quiceneara celebration had managed to rope in.

The party was nothing compared to past birthday festivities - things that consisted of things like confetti and Mickey Mouse-themed decorations in the dining room of her grandparents' huge mansion when she was five to the slumber parties that began in the kitchen over endless boxes of pizza and bottomless bowls of popcorn and drifted up to her bedroom when she turned ten.

Now she wore jewelry that gleamed bright under the light of the hanging chandelier and a dress that swished and wrapped its cool fabric around her body like a sea of sleek silk.

The unfamiliar territory was beginning to make her nauseous.

Her parents were drifting from one group of adults to another, moving with such a swift vigor in waves of conversation so deftly that it was nearly impossible to keep track of them.

If she swerved and ducked through dancing bodies enough she could make out Elizabeth, her blonde hair bobbing as she shimmied away in her emerald dress and glittering silver and green mask.

Johnathan? He remained stationed at the food, obligated to scarf down as many crab cakes as he could stuff in his mouth at once.

He wore a purple mask much like her own, except it lacked the black lace detailing that hers had.

Cosette sighed, leaning against the wall in a slump.

"Wow, I didn't think someone could look so depressed while dressed like royalty," a voice chuckled to the right of her.

Cosette looked up from the tops of her shoes. "Oh, how could you tell?" she asked the mysterious boy wryly.

Was she supposed to recognize that voice?

"Our parents are friends and my dad pointed you out," the guy shrugged, the suit tightening around his rising shoulders. "Apparently not even a pretty mask like that can disguise the lady of the evening."

"Hmm," Cosette hummed, squirming under the title. Being center of attention wasn't one of her best traits, and having an entire evening dedicated to her was bearing its weight on her.

"So, what's your name, stranger?" Cosette asked, turning toward him. "It's only fair, considering you know my identity."

The guy tilted his head at her, styled hair not moving an inch. "How about for now, I go by Prince? If I turn out to be bad company I don't want to give out any information that could lead you to me."

Cosette gave a small laugh, feeling the knots of tension that had been building up loosening slightly.

Okay, so maybe this Prince dude _wasn't_ that bad.

* * *

"Dude, keep eating that many and there won't be any more crabs left in the ocean."

Johnathan looked up, half a crab cake dangling from his mouth, to see a blonde sauntering toward him with her hands placed on her emerald-clad hips.

And damn, she was gorgeous.

And really, really, familiar...

"Whoa, Elizabeth?" he mumbled around a mouthful of food, nearly gagging on it in the process.

The blonde leaned over, mirth dancing in her eyes behind the mask. She used one hand to snap his mouth closed. "Better not keep that open - you'll catch flies."

* * *

"Do you know what you want to do when you grow up?" Eric asked.

Cosette cocked her head, looking at the moonlit gravel underneath their feet as they walked through the hotel's massive garden.

It had been four hours since the party began to move in full swing, and Eric had only seen his father during the two minute walk through the parking lot, and hadn't thought about him since then.

He had better things to think about.

Like the girl currently standing beside him, close enough for their arms to brush with each step they took.

"I don't really know," she admitted shyly. "When I was little - like, kindergarten age, you know? - I would say the most dangerous jobs I could think of: stunt woman, acrobat, astronaut, some kind of world-known sports player on steroids." She shrugged her shoulders. "Now I want something calm and steady that would take me to a cool place, like an apartment on Broadway in New York or an art studio in Hollywood."

"Whoa," Eric choked out, "I hardly ever think of a life outside Mission Creek to be honest."

Cosette nodded, turning to him in the dimness of the nightly lit outdoors. "I can't say I do much either; the idea of traveling has just always been so addicting, that I sometimes picture what it would be like to move from our small town, away from Principal Perry and all the other evils, no matter how lesser."

Eric shuddered at the mention of his horrible high school principal. How could she be such a demon at sixty?

"Ah, so you have had to endure the same wrath as I," Eric said with a chuckle.

How could he walk through Mission Creek High without knowing a girl like this existed?

"Yeah, I wonder what happened to that woman to make her so...deviously _gnome-ish_, you know?"

They made a right turn, laughing as their path widened to a concrete fountain of posing angels with huge wings and dresses caught in a captured wind, hands poised on harps as they spouted water between them.

"I'm guessing our parents," Eric mused, running his hand along the petals of a roses as they bloomed from a nearby bush. "My dad is always full of stories about when they were our age."

"So, Prince, our parents know each other," Cosette gathered in a playfully calculating tone. "Well, that doesn't mean much; my parents know more people than the President, possibly."

"That is a lot of people," Eric agreed after giving a low whistle.

Cosette sighed, giving a small shrug. "Yeah, I guess." She paused standing right in front a particularly large rose bush, reaching out to finger a vibrant rose that stood straighter, taller than the rest. "Sometimes it's tiring, being the daughter of people who are so involved in the swing of things, you know?"

Eric did know; hell, he couldn't be a country star's son without knowing how it felt to have a parent so social, even if their connections to everything were purely incidental.

"Oh god, I probably sound like such a brat," Cosette said in a nervous laugh. "Complaining about such a beautiful party and all."

Eric gently bumped their shoulders together. "Nah, I get where your coming from."

"Oh, do you?" Cosette asked. "So, you know what it's like to wear fancy dresses and have a million needles put in your butt while getting fitted for said dress?"

"Okay, so I don't where you're all coming from," Eric admitted, tossing his arms up in defeat. "Geez, girls don't take sympathy well, do they?"

Cosette gave a breathy laugh, reaching up to tuck an annoying strand behind her ear. She had long, skinny fingers and rounded nails that looked naturally slim; the hands of a musician. "So, _Prince_, people are going to wonder where we've gone off to - this is my party after all."

She began to walk back down the trail they had come down from, Eric realized a small flaw in his masquerading place.

Cosette had no idea what his real name was, so how could they ever see each other again after tonight?

"Wait!"

She froze, turning to look at him over her shoulder. "Yeah, Prince?"

"How will we ever see each other again?"

Cosette spun around fully, her masked eyes bouncing around her surroundings as she mulled over his question carefully.

"Letters!" she exclaimed brightly, snapping her fingers as the idea came to her. "We can exchange letters and then leave them here - this can be our meeting place for them. We can leave them right under this flower pot."

She walked over to a marble flower pot that sat empty on one of the three stone benches around the fountain.

"I've always like the idea of a secret romance," she told in a hushed, wicked whisper. Her voice floated around them, whistling with the breeze that ran through his hair.

* * *

"Um, dear brother of mine, may I talk to you for a minute?"

Chase turned, looking at his sister through the silky navy blue fabric of the mask Rachel had generously made for him. He excused himself from his conversation with a few of his co-workers from a recent convention and looked at Bree pointedly as she dragged him to a seclusive corner, away from the party.

"What up with the strong grip?" he asked, peeling her squeezing hand off his wrist.

"I just though you'd like to know that your wife is currently having a breakdown in the bathroom," Bree informed him, looking both alert and amused at the same time.

This peeked Chase's interest, although not as much as one would have thought; but over the years, he'd seen Christine have an emotional breakdown at him using the wrong type of laundry soap.

"What is there a crisis with the crab cakes?" he joked, smirking as he stuffed his hands in the pocket of his suit.

"Nah, your son's all over that," Bree shrugged off breezily, gesturing to where her nephew was twirling a blonde - while holding a plate piled high with crab cakes.

"So...?" Chase prompted with a hint of impatience.

"Cosette? You know, your daughter of fifteen years, the star of the party? She's gone missing."

His did a double take, his eyes bulging out inches than normal-sized. "What do you mean by_ missing_?"

"As in, location unknown," Bree defined, rolling her eyes. "God, aren't you supposed to be the smart one of the group?"

Chase rolled his eyes. "I'm aware of what the word means, Bree, I mean where do you think she is?"

Bree shrugged, her bare shoulders rising and her chocolate ringlets following suit. "No, that's why Chris sent me to find you. So, have you seen your daughter or not?"

Chase opened his mouth, prepared to futilely defend his actions of kind of completely losing himself in socializing with his friends other than keeping an eye on his daughter, when a murmur swept through the crowd, directed toward to humungous gold scripted doors leading out to the garden.

"Oh, never mind, here she comes," Bree said, the smirk practically smeared into her smug tone.

Chase turned in time to see his daughter stumble in, hair whisked slightly from the wind, cheeks flushed and her eyes so dazed it was noticeable from even across the room.

"What's that look mean?" he asked his sister when he turned around, catching her knowing, smug look even from behind her pearl-lined mask of prim gold fabric to match her sparkling floor length dress that reminded him of white wine.

Bree shook her head, laughing slightly as her tendrils of dark curls bounced with the movement, the grand lights reflecting off her shiny curled ends.

"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all."

* * *

**Sorry for the terribly long wait, but I started off the year with an extreme obsession for new TV shows to watch, and one of them is Teen Wolf, so everything having to do with Dylan O'Brien or Teen Wolf now floods my internet history. Oops?**

**AND OH MY GOD THAT SEASON FINALE MADE ME HYPERVENTILATE AND CRY AND ALL THAT FANGRIL JAZZ!**

**The season premire is February 17th, an hour-long.**

**Any one else buying that on iTunes at like, five in the morning?**

**As for story news, I will be coming out with an I Didn't Do It (new DC series, check it out!) one-shot, a Cloud 9 (new Dove Cameron movie; love it!) one-shot, and a new Lab Rats three-shot based off the WOWP special event Alex Vs Alex.**

**And possibly some Teen Wolf stuff because, seriously, I have caught a case of the Stydias, and it's getting pretty nasty.**

**Review and tell me what you thought of this chapter; it may help fuel me to write the next one!**

**(and whoa dude I just now realize how many exclamation points I used in just one A/N. -_-)**


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